


Orange Eyes

by HallowedJack



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Artist Steve Rogers, Blood Drinking, Bottom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant Bucky Barnes, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Power Dynamics, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Submissive Steve Rogers, Top Bucky Barnes, Vampire Bucky Barnes, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 14:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14896265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HallowedJack/pseuds/HallowedJack
Summary: Hydra's super soldier escaped. It was beyond their control, a vampire that strong. Now free, Bucky Barnes is on the run. Escaping has burned up most of his power, he needs to feed. Not wanting to expend any more energy, he focuses on the weakest human nearby. A human named Steve Rogers.





	1. Chapter 1

Tears rolled down Steve’s cheeks. He didn’t want to get out of bed. His covers were enough of a shield against the outside world. Rubbing his eyes, he lowered them for a gulp of fresh air. Frowning, he tasted how stale and bitter the air was in his room, not much of an improvement from inside his blankets. His knees ached when he planted his feet on the cold hardwood floor. While difficult to see in the dark, his apartment’s layout was seared into his mind. He didn’t need to find the light switch in order to open his window.

It was a nightmare, but he was awake now. The memory of the fright was fleeting, and for that he was glad. He didn’t want to remember what occurred, didn’t want to know how his mind taunted him with frightening symbolism and terror. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Steve fumbled with the window’s lock. With age, the lock mechanism had long-since rusted. He knew it needed some kind of oil, but wouldn’t know in the slightest how to apply it. Lifting the thick glass window up enough was the hardest and most embarrassing part. But the fresh air was his reward for how that effort caused his arms to tremble.

The sounds of traffic were mostly muted, and so were the voices from the adjacent apartment. Probably some sort of drug dispute. It wasn’t the kind of thing that made Steve want to fetch his hearing-aid. Not having to listen to noise pollution was probably the only good part about being partially deaf. The bad part was that he was completely unaware of the man who had just broken into his apartment.

Steve grumbled at how the city air still wasn’t much of an improvement, its subtle bitterness still not something he could get used to. After an attempt to swallow, the painful cracking pointedly alerted him of his dehydration. That would happen after a night of crying and general misery. Laughing quietly to himself, he slowly made his way out to his kitchen. It’s not that he suffered from officially diagnosed night-blindness, but he was sure to be certainly getting there. The bad part about partial night-blindness was that he couldn’t see the tall broad man standing to the side of his refrigerator.

The water from his tap was questionable, he never drank from it. Instead, Steve had a filter in his refrigerator that was honestly quite efficient at dispensing water. Grabbing a mug from the counter, he opened the fridge. With the soft yellow light it provided, he glanced into the cup to see if it was clean enough. Holding it under the spout, he pressed the button and listened to the soft whir and splash as the water dispensed. Steve closed the fridge door and dropped his mug to the ground. It shattered, and so did Steve’s calm.

Unmistakably, a man stood in his apartment. Backing up slowly, Steve attempted to feel behind him for his landline. The intruder probably couldn’t see him, but why was he just standing there? Reaching out to grab the phone, a painfully strong grasp stopped him. Yelping out in both surprise and pain, Steve jerked his arm away but didn’t free himself. There were two intruders and he just provoked one of them, but confusion and panic blurred his sense of reason. The man who stood by his refrigerator was gone. Almost frantically, he attempted to tug his arm free. It didn’t happen.

The intruder’s voice was low and gravelly, sending a harsh shiver down Steve’s spine. It wasn’t the cool autumn air that brought goosebumps to his skin.

“Relax, small one, I only wish to feed.”

Steve blinked. Although still frantic, he breathed a sigh of relief. Just a hungry homeless man. Steve could handle this. Relaxing his wrist, he turned away from the phone and faced the intruder. His face was masked by the darkness, but Steve could see the silhouette of shoulder-length hair and un-mistakable bulky arms. Definitely a good idea to stop struggling.

Steve took a deep breath.

“I have food in my cabinets and will happily give it to you. I don’t mind at all. Just let me go.”

The strong grip tightened, and most definitely would bruise later on. Steve could hear the intruder’s raspy breath.

“Thank you for the offer, but it’s not your food that I wish to feed on. Don’t struggle, it’ll only make things worse.”

Steve gulped, his calmness evaporating in an instant. Body trembling, he struggled to make sense of the bizarre response. Steve knew what the man was insinuating but still couldn’t believe that a cannibal of some sort had broken into his home. He knew that he lived in a bad part of town, but never thought it was this seedy.

“What the fuck!”

There was no use playing nice if he was going to die anyway, and so he struggled. Struggled enough to kick and yell and scratch. It wasn’t doing much, the man only making grunting sounds as Steve dug his fingernails into his skin. Neighbors be damned, hopefully, his shrieks would incite them to call the cops. Unlikely though, given how they were probably higher than kites.

Steve knew it was a dirty last resort move, but it was honest to god a matter of life and death. Since his feet were bare, it wasn’t as great as he would have wanted. Regardless, he threw a well-aimed kick to where Steve assumed the man’s crotch to be. The breathless groan that followed was enough to indicate that it was successful. As the hands were instinctively removed from his wrists, Steve took that moment to run. He didn’t care that he was wearing only a pair of pajama pants and nothing else, but that embarrassment was far-preferable to whatever alternative that man offered.

Running down the tattered apartment hallway, he could hear sounds stirring from the nearby units. No doubt stirred by Steve’s wail, he’d have a lot to explain if he managed to survive the night. Rounding the corner and swinging open the stairwell door, his bare feet were chilled by the tile stairs. Rapidly descending, the rhythmic thunking wasn’t quiet in the slightest. Steve was about half-way to the end of the stairwell when he felt another person on his tail, the force of their footsteps felt all the way down. Not having to guess who it was, the idea was motivation enough to quicken Steve’s pace. The building was three stories tall and so his assailant was likely two sets up.

Coming out onto the dark New York street provided him no relief, instead overwhelming him with choices. He needed to hide somewhere, but he couldn’t decide. Running to the first place he saw, the dark alleyway engulfed him as small rocks dug into his bare feet. Seeing a large dumpster, Steve ducked behind it and squeezed into the space between it and the wall. He took this moment to take a deep breath and contemplate the events. That sprint was enough to almost completely drain him of energy, it caused his mouth to fill up with unwanted phlegm. Steve struggled to breathe, his breath raspy and unpleasant.

His field of vision through the crack between the dumpster and wall was obviously impeded, but it was enough to see if he was being followed. Dread filled his stomach as that tall broad figure seemingly peeled himself from the shadows. Steve suddenly hated his asthma, hated how he struggled to breathe. Instead, he opted to hold it as the man approached. He wouldn’t be found out.

The man stared straight at the dumpster, straight into Steve’s eyes with glowing orange ones.

“Don’t hold your breath, breathe.”

The apparent concern in his voice was another cause for confusion. Not only did his assailant sport an unnerving set of pupils, but he also knew that Steve had been holding his breath and didn’t want him to be doing so. He couldn’t panic, even though it tore at the bounds of his mind. Steve desperately wanted to curl up and cry because this was all too much, but the limited space he found himself in prevented that. Now found out, he let his lungs lap down oxygen. The sound of his troubled breathing didn’t matter. As long as he stayed in the small cramped space, he’d be fine.

Or so he thought. Seemingly without effort, the man peeled the dumpster from the alley wall. The chain that tightly connected it broke with a sharp ping. Dread pooled in Steve’s stomach. This was worse than a nightmare, this terror worse than whatever dream had woken him up. Falling to the pavement, Steve got up quickly and readied his fists. He wouldn’t go down without a fight, his mother had paid so much to keep him in good health and he wouldn’t waste that. Steve needed to survive this, his mother wouldn’t have wanted him to die like this.

“Don’t come closer or I’ll knock your teeth out. I’m serious”

Steve’s assailant chuckled, stepping out of the way as the shorter man attempted to throw a punch.

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name, little one?”

The nickname fueled another punch, another punch that missed its mark. Snarling, he rasped out.

“It’s not little one, I’m a grown man! Like I’d ever tell some back-alley creep my name.”

The man ran a thumb up Steve’s face. His other hand held Steve’s shoulder firmly. The orange eyes stared into his own, their brightness mesmerizing in a way. After a few moments of failed struggling, he eventually stilled. There was no point in struggling anymore, he was going to die. The realization hit him like a sack of bricks. He hadn’t even said goodbye to Natasha, she wouldn’t know what to think. He couldn’t just leave her like that. Tears stung at his eyes and Steve sobbed in the darkness.

The thumb that caressed his face now smoothed down his hair. The other hand’s grip softened.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you. I’m sorry for giving you a fright.”

The man brought Steve closer, hugging him almost into his chest. Where Steve had expected to find comforting warmth and the steady rhythm of a heartbeat, he found nothing. The man had no pulse. Steve’s own pulse raced as he grew more confused by the second. This man not only had orange glowing eyes, cold skin, no pulse, but was also now comforting him.

“Don’t panic, it’s okay. I’ve got you. See, I have you in my arms and I’m not hurting you. Even after you pulled that stunt in the apartment, I’m not mad. If anything, I’m impressed by your kick. Don’t try that again though, I’d rather keep the only enjoyable bodily functions I have.”

The words were only partially effective in calming Steve down. He laughed softly at the joke, finding comfort in the deep tone and intimate closeness. Steve knew that it was wrong to be willingly staying close to the intruder like this, the one who had inspired that panic and emotional upset. Part of his mind was telling him to get the fuck away from this man, but the other was melting like butter with his warm words and soft embrace.

“I’m not sorry about that, what else could I have done? Can you let me go? I promise not to tell anyone about all of this.”

Orange eyes stared into blue. Through the darkness, Steve could see that the man opened his mouth to speak. A barrage of bullets interrupted them. In an instant, the grasp around him tightened and Steve felt like he was falling. Darkness pooled in his eyes. Nauseousness washed over him as the feeling in his stomach intensified. Seconds later, it stopped completely. The darkness curtaining his vision lifted, revealing them to be in a completely different setting. Confusion stung at his mind, but so did the sound of a skidding van.

“Fuck, thought I lost’em. I’m sorry for getting you involved in this”

Still held close, the man sprinted down the road and off into another alleyway. It was unbelievably fast, his strides longer than natural. A wet feeling ran down Steve’s arm. In the soft glow of neon signs, he could make out tinges of red. It was blood, but not his own. Steve felt no pain that signified a wound, and so it was the blood of the assailant.

“You’re bleeding... Oh god, this is way too much for me. I can’t.”

Another feeling in his stomach took him by surprise as the two disappeared into the darkness. From instinct, Steve clamped his eyes shut. He didn’t want to see whatever inspired that roller-coaster drop feeling. When it stopped, he blinked his eyes open. The feeling had lasted a lot longer than previously. Steve could hear the man’s labored breath. This neighborhood was not one he recognized in the slightest. Even while cloaked in darkness, he could tell that this was some sort of suburban area, nothing close the inner-city he had previously found himself in.

“Okay, we’re safe now. I didn’t expect them to have set up a perimeter, although I guess that’s what I get for assuming.”

The grip on his waist was released, but Steve didn’t part. Instead, he looked up into those bright orange eyes. It was truly mesmerizing, the way they shined out even while shrouded in the dark of night. They made him forget about everything that happened, made him forget that he was quite a fair distance away from his home. Steve let the man continue speaking, he wanted to hear that gravelly voice once more. While he’d never admit it, Steve knew that the rumbling voice was the cause of the heat in his belly.

“My name’s James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky. How about you, kid?”

Sleep was definitely the cause of his lapse in judgment, the lapse that made him blurt out his name like a nervous middle schooler.

“S-steve Rogers. I’m not a kid, I told you not to call me that.”

Putting his hands up in an act of defense, Bucky chuckled. The streetlight above flickered on, and Steve gasped at the sight of Bucky. Previously masked by darkness and Steve’s own night-blindness, he didn’t know what the guy looked like besides those glowing orange orbs. Now that his face was illuminated, Steve wanted to groan out at how unfair it at all was. It was like the universe wanted Steve to be smitten, smitten with the sharp jawline and strong nose. Bucky had full lips and a strong brow. Bucky was definitely handsome, and definitely Steve’s type.

The universe was definitely laughing at him. That was the only explanation for how the only man who had given him attention for the past three years was the one who broke into his apartment. The kind of person he absolutely couldn’t be attracted to, the kind of person Steve couldn’t want to sleep with.

“Fine, I’ll just call you Stevie. I’ll think up a cuter nickname for you in the future, one to match you perfectly.”

Steve wanted to think the implication of Bucky’s words was a coincidence, but that shit-eating grin told him otherwise. He blushed far too easy at the compliment, and he knew that letting himself be affected this much by a criminal was not rational in any way shape or form. However, the way Steve’s heart fluttered at the wide self-amused grin told him one thing he knew for certain. Steve was absolutely fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve sat warily on the floral vinyl chair. Just on the edge, not sinking back into the crusty fabric. Two twin beds sat against the far off-white walls. He didn’t sway his feet, each brush against the shag carpet sending plumes of dust into the lamp-lit air. It was an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar neighborhood motel. Out of his comfort zone. His stillness also came from fear, the desire to seize all movement to stop oneself from being noticed.

And that’s what he wanted, to go unnoticed by the strange orange-eyed menace. He was nothing else, if not a menace. A menace was the kind of person who broke into the homes of others to commit acts of cannibalism. It didn’t matter that the so-called ‘Bucky’ saved him from a drive-by, the guy broke into his home. But Steve didn’t leave. Didn’t leave because he didn’t feel safe out there, a natural thing after an attempt on his life. The unnaturally glowing orange eyes did not provide comfort anymore but invoked Steve’s intrigue. He wanted to know, wanted to know what secrets they held.

He wanted to know why an attempt was made on his life by both James Barnes and the shooters.

“Hey, umm, James...”

A shiver went down his spine when orange eyes met blue. The response was harsh and curt.

“I said you can call me bucky.”

Steve couldn’t help but flinch. Making this guy angry was his last priority.

“Right, Bucky. Can you let me know what’s going on? It’s l-like four-thirty in the morning and I just want to sleep in m-my own bed.”

Bucky pulled out an ornate wooden chair and sunk into a desk. Cradling his forehead in hand, his grunts of frustration were audible to Steve. Even while sitting, the man’s form was much larger than his own. Steve didn’t feel like he could leave even if he wanted to.

It was all just so odd. Orange glowing eyes, missing heartbeat, cold skin. Steve didn’t even know what to name the falling experience through the shadows, but the thought lingered in his mind. Was it the effect of a drug? It made sense in the context, a blackout followed by an apparent lapse in time. He didn’t trust that though, his current sense of time. Dilated by his adrenaline and fear, time seemed to have slowed to a halt. He knew that wasn’t true though. Four-thirty-three.

Bucky’s response was friendlier than his prior attempt but just as gruff.

“It’s complicated, sorry. I’m thinking of a way to explain all of this to you.”

Steve crossed his arms. He could handle the truth, he wasn’t a child to be coddled.

“I can handle it. Just- start from the beginning, were you going to eat me?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Steve knew he couldn’t handle it. He didn’t want to see Bucky’s face contort up into a wicked grin and twist into a boogeyman’s visage. But that didn’t happen. Instead, the orange eyes glanced away.

“To you, I will not lie. You deserve honesty. Stevie, It’s not as simple as that. Yes, I was going to consume parts of your body. At the moment I was panicked enough that I wouldn’t have prevented myself from causing you harm. Now though, I do not have such intentions.”

Steve’s body shifted to the side, facing away from the bulky man hunched over a wooden desk. Bucky’s long black hair brushed along the table’s surface.

“Okay. I d-don’t l-like that. Why can I trust you n-now t-then? And what intentions do you have now?”

Tears threatened to spill. He didn’t want to die. The comfort of being saved from a barrage of bullets had long since blown to oblivion.

“You can trust me because I haven’t given into my hunger or otherwise hurt you, even while absolutely capable. I do not wish to harm you. I still wish to feed, however.”

Steve gripped the sides of his chair. Knuckles white, he mentally debated running out into the night. If they really had gotten far away from the gunmen, it probably wouldn’t be an issue. He glanced at the door, checking to see if it was visibly locked or barred. Nothing. When he returned his gaze to Bucky, the menace caught his eye.

Putting his hands up to explain himself, Bucky interjected before such was possible.

“Uhh, it’s best to stay here with me. Again, I do not wish you harm. The men who shot at us are tactically cunning, and have likely infiltrated your apartment complex and are waiting for you to return. I won’t let you do that, they’ll torture you for information they wrongly think you’ll have. I can’t let that happen in good conscious. I’m sorry about that.”

Though hard to tell through the gruff gravel of his voice, his tone conveyed shame- guilt. But Steve did not reach out to the apparently guilty figure. Bucky’s previous words were not passed-by. Bucky still needed to ‘feed’ in a way Steve only thought could result in grave bodily harm.

“Okay, great. Can’t go back home and you’re going to ‘feed’ on me. It sounds creepy each time you say it. Let’s pretend I believe you for a moment. How can you eat somebody without causing them harm?”

Steve didn’t need to pretend. He believed that Bucky wanted to feed. The predatory orange eyes and shifting through shadows was enough of a bump in that macabre direction. Feeding on people didn’t seem that far-out there when mixed into that combination of events. What he did doubt though was how Bucky portrayed it. It would’ve been to his advantage to instill a sense of security into his prey before he ‘ate’. Bucky would be the one benefiting from lulling his prey into a false sense of security. And that’s what Steve was too, prey. Steve liked to think he was somewhat cunning, he wouldn’t go down that easy. Bucky saved him from the gunmen so that his food would be untarnished. That was all. Steve stared down at the ugly shag carpet.

Bucky lifted up his chair and turned it so he could sit facing Steve. The beds remained undisturbed.

“I can’t tell you everything about me. For all I know, you could be a plant to gain intelligence on me. Not that they don’t already know every corner of my mind, but I digress. Right. The feeding. It sounds bad, and it definitely is. I’ll uhh dip into this subject slowly, I won’t dump it all at once. Let me repeat myself, I have no intention of hurting you because what I consume is naturally replenished by the body.”

Steve mostly ignored the sweet talk, but it didn’t go unnoticed. It was pleasant to listen to that deep voice and hold it in his mind, but it was just that, a pleasant appreciation for masculinity. His mind was quick to connect the dots.

“You don’t want me to be hurt because it’s naturally replenished by my body. If I’m hurt gravely, I’ll perish and you’ll no longer be able to get it from me. Like how dairy farmers can’t get milk from a cow if they cull it for beef.”

Bucky bit his lip, rubbing a hand against the thick stubble coating his jawline. Steve swore he saw the faintest glimpse at a pair of sharpened teeth. A trick of the eye, hopefully.

“Albeit crude, you’re right. Clever, too. If I hurt you I wouldn’t be able to get what I need. I won’t take what I need without your consent, but I really do need it. Badly. The shadow trick I pulled took a lot of my energy, and I was low before that anyway. Trust me, Stevie, I won’t let anything happen to you. Are you afraid of needles?”

In any other circumstance, the question would have been innocuous. In this setting, Steve couldn’t help but infer a sinister meaning. Being asked about his fear of needles was undoubtedly related to the subject at hand, feeding. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Even if intended to make him feel better, the implication of needles alongside feeding was enough to make him tearful. It was forming a horrible image in his mind of sharp alien tendrils piercing his skin and taking clumps of flesh. He didn’t know if he should lie or not. Steve decided not to. Lying to Bucky probably wouldn’t end well. Again, he didn’t want to incur the man’s wrath. Steve didn’t know how much control Bucky had when angry, nor what he was truly capable of.

If Bucky was trying to lull him into safety instead of simply pouncing, Steve was willing to cooperate.

“No, I’m not afraid of needles. I’m immunocompromised and anemic. I have a list of everything wrong with me and a list of medications I’m too poor to afford. When I was younger, my mom could afford to treat me, and so I’ve received plenty of needles and things of that nature. Nobody will employ me now, so I just spend my little income on rent and the absolute minimum of medication that I can’t afford to not take without dying. Don’t expect a too hearty meal. I probably taste terrible.”

It was going to happen whether or not Steve wanted it to. The more he looked into those orange eyes, the more a predatory hunger resonated out. Bucky said he wouldn’t proceed without consent, but Steve didn’t really believe that. There was no reason for anybody to treat Steve with respect, let alone a monster. Whatever fighting spirit inspired by adrenaline had long-since faded from the overwhelming and oppressive feeling of finality. He couldn’t control what was happening anymore, he was too far out of his league.

Something else shined in those orange depths, something brighter. Not hunger. Bucky’s voice was surprised, seemingly in a good way.

“Oh? Well, that explains why I went to you instead of any of the other tenants. Now I know this won’t make me sound any better to you, so I probably shouldn’t say it, but I want honesty here. I was able to sense that you weren’t in peak condition, I could feel your weak heartbeat and small stature.”

More things were added to Bucky’s list of certainly ungodly abilities. He didn’t know what to call the ability to sense one’s heartbeat. It was definitely creepy. Fatigue pulled down at Steve’s eyelids, but he couldn’t sleep, not in the presence of Bucky. It wasn’t hard for the latent meaning of Bucky’s declaration to become clear.

“Easy prey. I get it.”

The words hurt to say, but they weren’t untrue. Steve knew he was weak, knew that it made him a target. He would never have guessed that it’d passively make him a target for monsters, nor would he have been able to guess how much it now hurt. Bucky cringed.

“Well- Not like that. But yeah, like that. Normally, it wouldn’t have really made that much of a difference, but since I’m pretty low on energy, I didn’t want to waste any more on trying to subdue somebody. Anyways, back on track. It’s good that you’re not afraid of needles.”

Subdue. Steve took a deep breath.

“Why is it good that I’m not afraid of needles?”

Just when Steve expected Bucky to pounce and ‘show him’, it didn’t happen. Bucky tapped at the desk to his side, uncertain.

“It hopefully means you’ve had blood drawn enough to be comfortable with that.”

The room grew silent after that declaration. The implication resonated with Steve, who now knew what Bucky was to feed on. Blood. Steve’s essence of life. The fluid that kept him living, the one he spilled so often. Replenishing every moment. It all made sense now, Bucky was going to feed on his blood. A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed.

“Yes, my blood has been drawn so many times now I don’t even care. Sometimes I watch it spray up into the vial. You want to drink mine, with those pointy little teeth of yours, right?”

Bucky stood up, and for a moment Steve filled with fear. Had his sass crossed the line? Instead of lashing out, the alarmingly pale but strikingly muscular man stretched his hands behind his head. A deep throaty laugh bellowed out, and Steve couldn’t deny that it was just a little bit charming. But just a little bit, not enough to dissipate Steve’s growing dread.

Mouth open in laughter, Bucky’s fangs were on display. Steve’s body reacted to large biceps and the dusting of hair on Bucky’s midriff, and it was perfectly natural. Even if scared, Steve could tell when a man was hot. Maybe Bucky did that on purpose, stretch so that his shirt rode up just enough to show off his chiseled abs. But there was no way for him to know of Steve’s orientation, was there? Steve wasn’t sure about that, and suddenly he felt exposed. Did part of Bucky’s repertoire of abilities include some kind of mind-reading?

It didn’t matter if Bucky was attractive. It didn’t matter that Steve’s body was reacting to stimuli with an erection, such was perfectly natural. He was too afraid to be mentally aroused anyway, too afraid to actually do anything. The threat of exsanguination was too pressing for him to be seriously aroused or otherwise horny. Steve expertly shifted his knees to keep things out of sight.

“Yes, I do. And for transparency's sake, I can feel it in your body, and sense where it’s gathering. Not judging, by the way.”

For once, it was Bucky that couldn’t meet Steve’s eyes. Once again, the implication was not lost on him. But it really didn’t matter, Steve gave it no more attention than a light blush on his cheeks. He had confirmation of Bucky’s objective, to drink his blood.

“I don’t know if I’m going to let you. There’s literally nothing in it for me. Only downsides.”

Normally, the downsides weren’t too important if it meant helping somebody, but this was clearly a different situation. Clearly a different situation than helping a cat out of a tree or helping mow a lawn. Feeding seemed more dangerous than just giving blood, something that while Steve had never experienced, was something he could compare ‘feeding’ to. For one, it was a lot less sterile, which was absolutely disastrous for his immune system. He didn’t even know what sort of weird paranormal effects being fed upon would have, if any. Steve just didn’t know.

Bucky opened his mouth to grin, not bothering to hide his wickedly-pointed canines. Clearly longer than normal, creepy and uncomfortable. They fascinated Steve though, much like the glowing orange and shifting shadows. He stopped stretching with a yawn. The grin was mischievous, almost as if Bucky was satisfied with himself

It was all new to Steve, knowledge he doubted many had. Steve knew that he was on the cusp of an entirely new world, a world that had glowing eyes and monsters that fed on the blood of humans. Reigning himself in, he’d let his mind race later. Right now, he had to survive this encounter and focus on the present. He didn’t know if escape would be possible without being fed on.

Bucky responded in a jovial manner, almost excited. Almost.

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. There are plenty of benefits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time between updates. I lost my muse after my chapter was deleted without me saving, (always use google docs), and so I didn't want to write until now. I regained my inspiration and will hopefully be providing updates with a better schedule. Let me know what you think about the chapter length, and if they should be longer/shorter. Additionally, I'm looking for a beta reader if anybody is interested.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve didn’t believe Bucky. Deception was entirely possible, especially for a self-proclaimed monster. But Bucky was forthright about his condition as far as Steve was aware. It was a bad position to be in. He didn’t know if he believed Bucky or not. If he wanted to feed, lying about its benefits would be second-nature. Whatever benefits provided probably wouldn’t be that desirable, he wouldn’t get fooled into this.

“What are these benefits, and how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Bucky took a step closer to Steve’s chair. He had to look up at the man to see the bright orange glowing out through strands of hair. It was somewhat uncomfortable, having somebody who could easily overpower Steve towering above him.

“I told you before that I will not lie, but it is in your best interest to be skeptical. You’d be a fool to take my word just because I proclaim honesty. But, for the benefits, there are many. Tell me, Stevie, have you ever been bitten by a mosquito?”

Bucky was right about both things. He would indeed be a fool to take the word of a self-proclaimed monster. While Bucky’s appearance did prove as a buffer against that thought, Steve had the experience to understand how looks could be deceiving. It was surely a mistake to conflate beauty with honesty. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Yes. Like most people, I’ve been bitten by a mosquito. Why does it matter? Are you some kind of mosquito hybrid monster?”

  
It was hard not to think of Bucky as honest when he grinned like that. After a short burst of laughter, he responded.

“No, I’m not a mosquito hybrid or related to them in the slightest. Just using it as an example to help you better understand. When a mosquito bites somebody, they inject their saliva into the wound. This saliva contains an anticoagulant and anesthetic. My kind, we have the same sort of substance.”

Discussing this subject did not make him feel suddenly okay with the idea of his blood being consumed. It was an uncomfortable image, regardless of if Bucky implied it to be painless. He hated mosquito bites anyway, so the analogy wasn’t doing him any favors.

“Interesting. What is your kind, then?”

And that’s when Bucky paused. He paused and bit his lip, sharp fangs protruding out and overwhelming Steve with the desire to just get away. It was a subconscious reaction, ingrained within him in a primal way. Those teeth just weren’t right. Bucky scratched at the stubble on his jaw.

“I’m a vampire. That’s what we call ourselves, vampires. I’ll talk more about that later, now’s the time to discuss feeding.”

Steve played with the word in his mind. It wasn’t something he had ever heard before. That word was not something he was familiar with. He wondered what it meant, where it came from, but he trapped that thought in a container. He’d open that container later, there were more pressing matters.

“Because you’re hungry, right?”

Another step forward. Lamp-light glinted off of sharp fangs. Orange orbs stared. This wasn’t a feeling that Steve enjoyed. This absolutely terrifying feeling of being helpless was finally starting to sink in. Steve was prey, and it was much worse of a feeling than any of the bullying he had endured in high school. Bucky licked his lips, glanced down at him, but took a step back. The vampire couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Yes, I will not deny that. To continue about feeding, vampires have the ability to inject either a venom or serum when feeding. However, most choose to do neither. This serum has chemicals that perform many functions. It can act as a local anesthetic, anticoagulant, antihistamine, those kinds of things. Where I think you’d be interested in the therapeutic aspects of this serum. It stimulates cell-growth within bone-marrow, providing relief from many ailments. Alongside being antipathogenic in general, it can provide relief from all forms of anemia and diseases of the blood.”

Bucky’s smile that followed was genuine, his expression waiting to see how Steve would react. For the most part, Steve was intrigued. The brief idea of venom crossed his mind, but the apparent reparative properties of the serum took full-focus. It was exactly what Steve wanted, and he knew that Bucky was well-aware of that fact. Somewhat emboldened, Bucky sat on the bed next to Steve’s chair and patted the fabric next to him.

Steve knew that he shouldn’t, but he got up anyways. The prospect of a motel bed was gross, but not enough to overpower the genuine curiosity and promise of healing. Bucky was pleased with this, patting him on the shoulder and staring into his eyes with a smirk. Each contact made Steve feel both comforted and flighty. Steve didn’t get up when that same cold hand wrapped around his shoulder. It felt nice to be held during emotional turmoil, and Steve didn’t care that the person holding him was the cause. It was all just so overwhelming, he didn’t know what was the right way to be thinking.

As much as Steve knew he shouldn’t believe the guy, he wanted to have a normal body. He didn’t want to worry about not affording iron supplements or fainting when the weather got a bit too hot or he exerted himself. Curing himself was something he had stopped trying to think of, knowing himself that it’d never happen. Now that the opportunity actually was presenting himself, he wasn’t as eager to take the apparent miracle cure as he thought he’d be.

“And how do you know about all this? Are there any other benefits to this serum? Why do some vampires choose to inject neither?”

Bucky’s cold arm wrapped around Steve’s waist. The gas station shirt provided little insulation from the chilly skin encircling him. The following shiver was natural, so were the goosebumps raised on his neck. Steve could hear Bucky inhale deeply, and didn’t want to linger on the meaning of that observation. This was wrong. When he glanced up into those orange eyes, he still saw that predatory gaze, but something else too. Something warm. He didn’t feel the need to get up and leave anymore.

Being held by Bucky was comforting, vampire or not. Steve slowed his breathing, knowing it’d calm him down. His pulse naturally slowed.

“There you go, no need to worry now is there? Like I said, not going to hurt you. There are other benefits indeed. Those involving blood are the ones I am most familiar with. I’m not very up-to-date on current medical knowledge and so I know little in that area. What I know is rudimentary and from experience. It does make sense that a vampire would naturally desire to reinforce a human’s ability to generate blood since they do consume it after all.”

It did make sense, just like a farmer caring for livestock. The comparison was somewhat disturbing, eerily accurate. Their prior words made more sense now that Steve was aware of the regenerative properties. From the sound of it, the aspect of harm seemed to be entirely up to the vampire’s control. Steve was reassured by that fact, even if only a little. Bucky held him now, but Steve wondered if that meant he was truly safe from harm. His nose buried itself in Steve’s short blonde hair, arm around his waist tightening. The feeling on his scalp was pleasant.

“Uhh, you didn’t answer why some chose to inject neither.”

Another deep inhale. Steve’s fingers shook.

“God, Stevie, you smell so good. Sorry about leaving that out, wasn’t intentional. Injecting either substance requires energy, a sort of life force obtained by drinking blood. It sustains our bodies much like how humans consume food. Weaker vampires do not have large reserves, and thus have more to lose from supplying humans with serum. Most are also not capable of using the serum to its full extent as it requires potency for effectiveness. The serum is not needed to feed, especially for what they’d consider to be a quick meal. Vampires also exist who just do not care about humans in the slightest and so, therefore, do not supply their serum on a matter of principle.”

Steve didn’t know what to do with that information. He knew that he wanted to know, but his mind now swam in a surplus of knowledge that was really only creating uncertainty and fear. Bucky wasn’t the only vampire around, apparently, and some were stronger than others. This was a logical conclusion, but he hadn’t arrived there himself yet. He wondered how rare they were, or if they were just well-hidden. His mind scoured his memories for anything he’d consider vampiric, but he wasn’t sure of what to look for. It wasn’t surprising that some vampires hated humans, he supposed it was a natural by-product of some sort of tribal nature.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, that makes sense, sort of. I guess not every vampire is as caring as you.”

Steve couldn’t stop himself from letting out a curt laugh. His words weren’t sarcastic, but definitely teasing.

“I definitely do not intend to cause you harm. I’ll stop beating around the bush. Can I feed on you?”

Pain bloomed in his mind, a new headache pressing up against his skull.

That’s the question that made Steve break from Bucky’s grasp and stand up abruptly. It was the question he knew was coming, but didn’t think of an answer to beforehand. Steve eyed the door handle again. If it was true that the gunmen were at his house, he wouldn’t be able to return. A quick glance at his phone told him it was getting later. The bags under his eyes were likely embarrassingly obvious. Steve would probably miss his shift if he got held up here any longer. The idea of health tantalized him, and he toyed with it. Toyed with the possibility that bucky wasn't lying and he could actually help alleviate some of his symptoms. But it was exactly what Steve wanted to hear, exactly the thing that would make him say yes.

And that, it did.

“Y-yes. Fine. As long as you help me with those guys in my apartment and the whole serum thing.”

Bucky’s fangs glistened, a drop of saliva dripping off the pointed tooth. Definitely unnerving. Steve averted his eyes and sat back down on the covers. Thinking about all of the gross things and stains on the sheet was easier than the present. The voice that responded was significantly lower, rumbling with approval. His headache throbbed.

“Good.”

Cold fingers ran up Steve’s arm, sending a shiver down his spine with each touch. It was intimate but in a foreign way.

“Where are you going to… uh-

Bucky’s arm wrapped around his waist, pulling Steve closer. No heartbeat, no body warmth.

“Bite?” He asked with a smirk.

Instead of supplying an answer, Bucky nudged his nose along Steve’s shoulder. Kissing as he went, Steve couldn’t help but blush. It was a weird combination of sensations, but definitely unenjoyable. He sat awkwardly, bracing himself for pain after each peck of Bucky’s lips.

“Don’t worry, Stevie. You’ll only feel a slight pressure, like a needle. You can look away if need be.”

  
Steve didn’t need to be warned twice as he felt a cold muscle lapping along the side of his neck. Focusing on the intricate wallpaper and its geometric designs was the only way to distract himself from the feeling of his own pulse throbbing against a chilled pair of lips. The stubble was making it hard for him to count the points on the wallpaper. Unbearable.

He wanted to plead for Bucky to move things along, but he didn’t trust himself to speak. The kisses and roaming hand along the small of his back were supposed to be reassuring. Reassure, it did not. It was shameful. Steve’s cheeks burned red. He was letting this happen, letting some vampire creature exsanguinate him. It would all be over soon. He could go back to his apartment after Bucky fed and did whatever he needs to with his apartment to make it safe.

As the point of something hard poked at his skin, Steve hurriedly glanced out the window. Sneaking a peek at what was happening in his reflection, the shock of not seeing Bucky was overwhelmed by the sharp prick of pain as fangs sunk into his jugular. All he could do was whimper and pray.

It hurt, that much was clear. But not for long. He couldn’t familiarize the feeling, but he could feel suction and warmth trickling across his skin. Before pain could throb, a calm feeling registered. Was it death? Pleasure pumped into his veins and coursed through his entirety. He felt happy, good- euphoric. The headache had numbed, it didn’t matter anymore. The bed was no longer crusty, now softer than a cloud and plush under his thighs. Another wave of ecstasy flashed through him suddenly, enough to startle him. But it didn’t last. He could feel the pressure in his vein, and it was just wrong. Those orange eyes were endless, hungry, crazed almost. Steve jerked, trying to free himself. Strong cold hands clamped down harshly, holding him down against the bed. Enough to bruise.

Bucky mumbled something into Steve’s skin, voice vibrating along his fans and into his veins. A loud moan echoed out into the room. Definitely not Steve, lips quivering from the overload of stimulus. Blood ran down his neck, the wet warmth soaking into his cheap t-shirt. The third wave was of overwhelming dizziness. Steve’s body went slack as he was released, almost falling onto the bed if not for the arm that caught him. No longer glazed from pleasure, Bucky’s eyes stared into his own. They blinked. Three times before he flinched.

“Oh, shit! Shit..”

Confusion wracked Steve’s brain, barely aware of his surroundings.

“D-dizzy…”

He managed to whisper out.

Blood ran down his shoulder, sticky and warm. Bucky lapped at the wound he inflicted, coating it with his saliva to stop the oozing red. He couldn’t help but lick along the lines of dried blood, not letting any go to waste.

Still cradling Steve, Bucky set aside a pillow and bundle of blankets. Blood smeared against white sheets, but the vampire didn’t care.

It was mostly a blur to him, delayed vision and swaying consciousness. His muscles felt heavy, and his stomach flip-flopped uncomfortably. A cold arm at his back slowed his descent, snaking itself away once he laid flat on the bed. The softness was comforting as he stared half-lidded at the handsome man across from him. Blood- which he barely managed to realize was his own, smeared at the corners of Bucky’s mouth. A smile followed, smarmy and clearly indulgent. One that showed fangs stained red.

Bucky wiped the blood from his mouth. It was a good effort, but not near enough to sanitize the mess of red caked into his stubble.

“Sorry, I took a bit too much. Hard to resist, but I’m full now. Thank you so much for trusting me enough for this.”

Steve wouldn’t call it charming, but Bucky’s grin was oddly comforting. Easy to look at. When Steve felt sleep weighing his eyelids, he let it take him. Dreaming was easier than dealing with his turbulent hurricane of brewing emotions.


End file.
